ALL IS SILENCE

by Robert L. Slater

  “And let us know where he is,” Josie added. “Neveah knows how to reach us.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie said with sincerity. Taking Charley felt like relief for them. Do they really have Charley’s best interests in mind if they’ll let him go with me? She wondered if her intentions were any better. At least she wanted to help him get what he wanted.

  “I’ll tell Charley and help him pack.” Josie hurried off.

  Nev and Zach stepped into the room, looking happy and sedated by the turkey. Zach fixed his eyes on Lizzie. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got another passenger south,” Lizzie said.

  Zach shrugged with the same look he’d given her when she found Saj and brought Spike home.

  “Who?” Nev asked.

  Charley burst into the room, nearly knocking Lizzie over with a hug. Then as quick, he pulled away. “Where do I put my stuff?”

  Nev smiled. “Charley. You going with us?”

  He nodded, grinning.

  Lizzie felt her own smile growing. She knew she’d made the right choice. “You’ll have to ride in the back with Spike, the dog-man.”

  “That’ll be fine. I used to have a big dog myself. Got hit by a truck. We had to put him down.” He hugged the Reverends.

  “Go with God, Charles,” John said.

  But John was looking at Lizzie when he said it. A chill passed through her. So help me, God. She hoped she had the strength to follow through.

  After all the goodbyes they headed out to the Tank with Charley and Spike following. The Reverend Josie handed Nev a box of food, leftovers for the trip.

  They finished Thanksgiving driving toward Portland.

  When they reached the Columbia River in Vancouver, Zach slammed his hands on the dashboard. “We weren’t supposed to get to Portland. Must have missed the turn off.”

  “It’s okay, Zach.” Nev placed her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t be far off track. You’re tired. It’s been a long day. Let’s find someplace to sleep.”

  “Nev’s right,” Lizzie said. “Go until there’s a hotel.”

  Zach took a deep breath. “Okay.” Then he jerked the tank onto an off-ramp. “It says East, let’s go until we hit 205 or a hotel.” The off-ramp wound in a tight loop. The Tank tipped.

  “Zach,” Lizzie said, her voice tight, “You can slow down.”

  “Okay,” he said again.

  Lizzie could hear the stress in his voice. Chill out, Zach. She dared not say it out loud. Too much testosterone.

  The Tank slowed through the turn and then Zach accelerated on the straightway.

  Nev put her hand back on Zach’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Relax, buddy. We’re so glad you’re driving, right Lizzie?”

  “Yeah, Zach.”

  Zach released his hands one at a time flexing them get out the tightness.

  In a couple minutes Zach pointed to a Holiday Inn Express sign. “How’s that?”

  “Looks great.” Lizzie said.

  Zach pulled into the parking lot, drove up to the front door, and came to a hard stop. The doors opened. “Your rest for the night, folks.” He yawned, stretched his arms and got out.

  “Thanks, Zach,” Lizzie said. “Let’s get inside. Nev and I will scope out rooms. Charley, can you help Zach and Spike bring stuff inside?”

  “Hey, it’s got a pool and a hot tub.” Nev pointed at a sign with people cavorting in the water. “We should hit the hot tub.”

  Zach lugged in the duffel bags. “Sounds awesome.”

  “Go ahead,” Lizzie said. “I’m beat.”

  They got into three rooms in a row, propped open for cleaning. The beds had already been made and the only setup was rolling the maid’s cart out.

  Lizzie ushered Charley and Spike into the first room. “You two,” she motioned to them, “can sleep over there in the far double bed.” She put Saj’s car seat on the other double.

  Charley led Spike to the bed and pulled the covers back. “Shoes off.” He pulled Spike’s big size 13 shoes off. “You sleep here. I’ll be right next to you, Spike.” Charley tucked Spike in, ran around the bed, snuggled in and pulled the blankets up.

  Lizzie, Zach and Nev unloaded duffels.

  Zach came up beside Lizzie and put his hand on her shoulder. “So cute. Gives new meaning to the term ‘a boy and his dog.’”

  “I thought Charley was a dog-person, too,” Nev said. “He never spoke.”

  “Guess you can’t judge a book…”

  “Yeah.” Nev hugged Lizzie, “You sure you don’t want some time in the hot tub or pool?”

  “Nah. I’m going to follow the boys’ example.”

  “All right, we’ll check on you before we head to our rooms,” Zach said.

  “Yeah,” Nev said. “Night.”

  Lizzie’s heart twisted as she watched Zach take Nev’s hand. She threw her stuff on the other bed. Well, they’re both lovely people. Logic said she had nothing to be upset about. Logic didn’t help. Saj fussed and wiggled in his car seat. “Hey, don’t cry.”

  22

  THE SUN ROSE OVER THE Sandia Mountains as amazing as Jess had predicted. The black edge stood out against the yellow fire of the sun as it faded to rusty orange in the clouds. Mannie slipped out the door and down the hall, letting the door close firmly. She’d be up by the time he got back. He found the exercise area and was pleased that the key card Jess had made opened the door.

  There was a pool and a hot tub. With a twinge of regret for not having swim trunks, he stripped down to his boxers and stepped into the pool. The water was cool, but not bracing cold. He dove horizontally away from the wall and pulled himself down toward the bottom before kicking gently forward. At the other end he did a kick turn and headed back. He focused on the breath, the stroke and kick. After a couple dozen strong laps he pulled himself out and walked, dripping to the hot tub. His knee didn’t feel too bad this morning. If I did my exercises, maybe it wouldn’t be a problem.

  After a shower in the locker room, he pulled on his pants, leaving the boxers hanging on the faucet—going commando. He grimaced and adjusted as he walked down the tiled hall.

  Mannie found the staff room and started coffee in the full-sized coffee maker. While it brewed he found the Business Center and got on the Internet to see if there was any new information about the disease and or recovery. What Lizzie had said about Seattle sounded good.

  The news of the world hadn’t changed. He tried ABC, CNN, Reuters and finally BBC. BBC had a new headline. “Survivors Unite!” The subheading caught his eye. “If you are alive now the disease will not kill you.” Something inside him relaxed. He and Lizzie had survived. He got up to get coffee. But why? Another reason to not believe in a god who would let him live and kill so many others.

  With fresh coffee in hand, black with lots of sugar, he skimmed the rest of the article. A handful of surviving epidemiologists had been working together on-line. Certain species of animals—bonobos, orangutans and chimpanzees—had suffered similar fates. But the disease had done its work and the belief was that in doing so had killed itself off.

  A week-old article suggested English districts send representatives to a new ad hoc Parliament. Mannie searched for similar information in the U.S. but found nothing. Maybe when Jess was up she’d have more luck. He wasn’t bad for his age, but kids seemed to find what they were looking for faster.

  When he returned to the room, Jess was sitting on the bed fully clothed and drying her hair. “You eaten?”

  “Just coffee.”

  “Seems a little gritty for breakfast.”

  “The liquid version. There’s more downstairs if you want.”

  Jess did have more luck on the Internet. “Two surviving members of Congress, Hilda Solis of California and Jack Schlossberg of New York.”

  Mannie chuckled. “East meets West.”

  “Does that make one the President and the other the Vice President?” Jess asked.

  “Not a damn clue. Do they have a plan?” Mannie l
eaned over her shoulder, squinting. A grainy photo of an older woman and a young man accompanied the post. Without his reading glasses, he could only read the bold print. “He’s a Kennedy. Breaking the curse?”

  “They’re suggesting people head for population centers.”

  “Well,” Mannie said, “I guess we’re doing that.”

  “New Mexico Governor says report to State Universities, including UNM in Albuquerque.”

  “I wondered why we saw no one in a city this size.” He had no time or patience to deal with local bureaucracy. “I want to get to Lizzie.”

  Jess nodded. “Me, too.”

  They scrounged breakfast at a mini-mart and picked up all the items on Mannie’s shopping list before hitting the road. The drive proved even less interesting than the previous day. The scrub brush and plateaus were lovely at first, but monotonous eventually. Odd formations jutted out from time to time, red rock cliffs and broken lands pushed up by some cataclysm.

  In the afternoon they pulled into Mancos, Colorado. Mannie’s knee needed a stretch and Jess wanted to explore in a new state. It was a small town; he could walk the whole length.

  “All right, you go, but be back in 15?”

  Jess’ smile lit her face. “I will.” She jogged away from him, her cowboy boots clunking on the pavement.

  Mannie crossed the street to a natural foods store. He opened the door to an overwhelming wave of rotting food. He stepped in anyway.

  The door opened behind him. He turned to see Jess, a sheepish smirk on her face. “Thought I’d wait to explore with you.”

  “Okay.” In the produce section he found something not rotten yet. “Hey, Jess. Washington apples. He bit into one; it tasted bland, but great compared to the fruit he hadn’t been eating. He tossed one to Jess and she did the same her smirk turning to a grin as she wiped juice off her face. The putrid stench drove them back outside, but he took the rest of the good apples in a basket. He left them in the Jeep while Jess continued up the dusty street.

  The motorcycle shop across the street caught Mannie’s eye. He hadn’t liked motorcycles since burning his leg on the manifold of a dirt bike as a kid. Too dangerous, but he did like the idea of an escape pod if the jeep broke down. Maybe he should find a bicycle. Better than on foot, but in the snow? Brrr. A snowmobile would be good.

  A crash pulled his attention off the bikes. “Jess?” he hollered. Another smash kicked in his adrenaline. He hobbled back to the Jeep and pulled the 870 shotgun from its case. More crashes echoed from the Mancos Liquors building. The front window shattered as a large bottle of wine exploded. A big, jacked-up 4X4 with giant tires and a gun rack was parked half on the curb outside.

  “Jess?” Mannie stepped to the door and cocked the shotgun. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Nobody named Jess in here. Go away.” Another crash. “‘This land is my land,’” Sang the drunken voice. “This land ain’t your land. Get off of my land, go back to your land.”

  “Shit.” If Jess was in there he needed to know. Why mess with a drunk in a liquor store at the end of the world? Then there was a scream. That’s why. Mannie kicked the door open and stepped into the dim light of the store.

  His eyes adjusted as a bottle burst at his feet, splattering his shoes with red wine. He could see two people at the back of the store. A large Native American—the singer—with a long dark braided ponytail stood over a dark-eyed woman on the ground glaring up at him. The taller shape had a bottle raised over his head prepared to throw. “Don’t throw that.” Mannie scanned the store for any sign of Jess.

  “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” The big guy, tossed the bottle to the side. “If it ain’t the Lone Ranger.”

  Mannie sighed. Maybe wearing the uniform was a bad choice. “Step away from the woman.”

  “She’s my wife, Lone Ranger.”

  “Take it easy.” Mannie used his calm, warm voice. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Ma’am. Could you step away from him?”

  The big man spit in his direction. “This ain’t your land, spic. Just ‘cause you got a gun.”

  “Do I look like the people who stole your land?” Mannie’s jaw tightened. “Jesus, we’re both Native Americans; my tribe’s just further south than yours.”

  “Fuck you. I ain’t your Tonto, Lone Ranger.”

  Mannie’s long fuse was burning shorter. “I’m not your enemy; that bottle is. Now, get away from the woman.” He took a step forward, carefully staying on the doormat and off the wine-slick tile.

  “Randy, I think you pissed him off.” The woman tried to stand, but slipped in the puddle of booze on the floor.

  She didn’t look too stable, either. She grabbed a big plastic bottle of vodka and used it to regain her balance. She stumbled toward Mannie.

  “Blackhawk’s not bad when he ain’t drunk.” She stepped behind Mannie,

  He turned to let her pass, watching her carefully. He remembered in domestic violence training, they said the cops often got hurt.

  The big man picked up an open bottle and took another drink. He sat heavily. “Fuck you, Lone Ranger.”

  “Okay, Blackhawk? I’m going to leave and give your wife a ride someplace north a bit. Next town.”

  The big guy looked away.

  “When you’re sober enough to get there…”

  Blackhawk grabbed another glass wine bottle, a big liter and a half. He held it up like he was going to throw it.

  “Don’t.” Mannie heard the jeep start up outside. Shit. If that woman is stealing my rig... He grabbed the doorknob and ran out. He heard the wine bottle smash on the door behind. “Stupid drunk!”

  Jess had the jeep rolling toward him and the door open. “Come on, Mannie, want a ride?” She grinned broadly.

  Mannie glanced back at the building. No sign of pursuit . He turned to the giant 4X4 and shot a round into the front tire. It gasped and the truck sunk down. Mannie jogged to the jeep and swung himself up into the passenger seat. The woman from the liquor store was in the back seat giggling.

  Mannie jerked the door shut as Rubi surged forward. Jess wasn’t too good with the clutch. As they rounded the corner, he saw the door of the liquor store open and the big man stumbled out. He had a wine bottle in each hand and he threw them after the retreating Jeep. There was a crash behind them. Jess swung Rubi hard to the right; the tires screeched a bit, but in seconds she was it up to speed and headed north.

  “Thanks, Jess.” Mannie buckled his seatbelt. “Nice timing.”

  “Seemed like you needed some help. Mannie, this is BeeGee,” Jess said, pointing to the woman in the back seat. “BeeGee. Mannie.”

  “BeeGee?”

  “B dot G. Baby Girl. Mom had 13 kids, I’s last. Lucky one I guess.” She held her hand out.

  Mannie looked at her hand, wet and sanitized with liquor. “I got a bite on my hand. Can’t shake. Blackhawk’s really your husband?”

  “’fraid so. Not so bad when he’s not drinkin’. Course all we been doin’ is drinkin’.”

  Mannie felt under the seat for the towel he used to clean the dust off the windows. He handed it back to her. “You can wipe up with this some. I told Blackhawk I’d let you off at the next town. If you wanted. We’re heading to Salt Lake. You’re welcome to hitch a ride.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She twisted the cap off the vodka bottle from the store and offered Mannie the first drink.

  The stressed and adrenalized part of him wanted the drink, the burn, then the buzz. He held his hand up. “No, thanks. I’m dry.” He turned back to Jess. “You okay driving this thing?”

  She nodded. “I’m okay for a while. I’d like to drive it in less stressful conditions.” Her hands gripped tight on the wheel.

  “Thanks for the ride. Be good for me to steer clear of him for a while.” BeeGee’s voice steadied. “You can drop me in Dolores, up the road a way.”

  “You don’t have to stay in the next town,” Mannie said. “We don’t even have to stop.”


  “Yeah, we do,” Jess said. “If we’re driving much farther tonight, I want you behind the wheel.”

  “Okay. We’ll stop,” Mannie turned back to BeeGee, “and get some food. You can stay or you can come with us.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jess gushed. “Guess what? I forgot in the rush. Today’s Thanksgiving.”

  “Really?” Mannie laughed. “Not sure we have a lot to be thankful for, but we’re still here.”

  A dry chuckle came from the back seat. “A white woman, a Mexican and an Indian meet on Thanksgiving. Sounds like a joke.”

  But to Mannie, she didn’t appear very amused. He changed the subject. “How long, you figure, before Blackhawk comes looking for you?”

  ”Tomorrow maybe.” Even more sober, she stared out the window at the speeding scenery.

  “I want a Thanksgiving dinner,” Jess said. She turned her head to Mannie, “Please.”

  Once again he saw the little girl. “Sure.” Mannie put his hand on her shoulder.

  Twenty minutes later they pulled into the Naked Moose restaurant in Dolores, Colorado. The power was out and the sun nearly down. Mannie had Jess park behind the restaurant in case BeeGee was wrong and Blackhawk arrived sooner.

  Inside in the walk-in freezer Jess found a whole ham still mostly frozen. Since the electric stove was out, Mannie fired the gas grill out on the deck. He wrapped aluminum foil around the ham and put it on the grill.

  “I’m going to go see what other Thanksgiving kinds of food I can find,” Jess said.

  Mannie followed her outside. “Jess, thanks again for the cool head back there.”

  She nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m off to explore.”

  “Be safe,” Mannie said. He retrieved his maps from Rubi’s glove box. When he got back inside BeeGee was staring at her phone, intent on playing a game.

  Mannie familiarized himself with the next stretch of road: 70 miles before Monticello, then head north to Salt Lake City about 300 miles after that. If everything went well, he might see Lizzie tomorrow.

  After about 20 minutes, Jess came back with cans of green beans, fruit cocktail, black olives and Coca-Cola. “The Coke’s from your Jeep,” she explained, opening the other cans. She tore off the wrapper and stuck the green bean can on the grill. When she lifted the lid smoke billowed out from the juice dripping through the aluminum.